


Of Birthdays

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: First and Commander: Namira Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dalish don't really celebrate birthdays, so when Namira Lavellan realizes she's missed Cullen's, it's research time -- and everyone's got an opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Birthdays

Namira Lavellan slipped into Cullen’s office, hoping she was not interrupting a meeting.  She saw him standing at his bookcase, one of his scouts asking him a question.

“Why does Leliana want to know my birthday?” he asked, looking vaguely disgruntled.  “It’s already passed.”  The scout bowed his head, and seeing Namira, quickly found an excuse to be elsewhere.  Cullen saw her then, the disgruntled look vanishing into that shy smile he wore so often for her.  “I was hoping you’d stop by,” he said brightly, leaving his books and taking her into his arms.

She greeted him with a kiss, but she was distracted.  An all-consuming thought struck her.   _I missed his birthday?_   She smiled at him, but secretly, she was crafting a plan.

***

“This can’t stand,” Namira said flatly, sitting on Sera’s couch.  “Not telling me his birthday?  He is in such trouble.”

“Maybe Mr. Uptight’s embarrassed about getting old,” Sera snickered.  “Can you imagine if he found a grey hair?  He might explode if he couldn’t order it to turn blond again.”

Namira nodded.  “It’s foolishness, is what it is.  I won’t allow it.  I am going to throw him a birthday party or — or — do some kind of birthday thing, and he is going to like it.  That’s what humans do, or so everyone tells me, and that’s what will be done.”

“Does he have to like it?” Sera asked.  “Sort of more fun if he loathes it, innit?”

***

“Blackwall.  What do humans give each other for birthdays?” Namira asked keenly.  The man paused, setting aside his whittling tools.

“What’s this about?” he asked suspiciously.

“Cullen didn’t tell me when his birthday was.  I intend to remedy that,” she said.

Blackwall considered, scratching his beard with one hand.  “Man like Cullen, he’s serious, you see.  Most likely he’d enjoy something practical.  New boots, or improved armor.  I don’t see him being the frivolous sort.”

“That’s the way to a man’s heart, is it?”

“Well, I don’t know about every man.  You only asked about the one,” he pointed out.

***

“Vivienne, what are human birthday parties like?”

“My dear Inquisitor, I am honored you chose to seek my advice on this most important matter,” said Vivienne dryly.  “A little birdie has told me you are interested in gifts for our stalwart Commander.   Were I to plan the affair, it would make the gathering at Halamshiral look quite tame in comparison.”

“I think I’ll take that as a threat,” Namira said, slowly backing away.

Vivienne simply laughed one of her sparkling laughs and let her go.

***

“Blasted birthday, why does she want to know, not her blighted business, annoyed, affronted, exasperated, a damn distraction —”

“Thank you, Cole.”

***

Cassandra arched her eyebrow.  “Are you sure about this, Inquisitor?  Cullen is a rather private man, as you well know.  I do not think he would appreciate fanfare.”

“I know, I know,” said Namira.  “But you can see why I can’t simply ignore it.  I’m afraid I love him, and if there’s one thing living with you shemlen has taught me, you don’t ignore the birthdays of people you love.  We Dalish don’t celebrate them with nearly the pomp and circumstance as you lot do.”

“I think he would prefer a more Dalish birthday, then,” said Cassandra, shaking her head.

***

Namira staggered out of the tavern, reeling under the weight of four of Iron Bull’s awful drinks.  Her head pounded and her stomach churned, and she could barely remember Bull counting off on his fingers all the lascivious things she should get for Cullen.  She belched, glad no one was around to see her, and hurried back to her room, fervently declaring she would not be taking a one of his suggestions.

***

Namira turned to Solas.  “Sorry, I know it’s rather out of your area of expertise.”

“You would be right,” he said, amused.  “Yet it seems to me it comes down more to what he would like, and less about your desires in ‘getting it right.’  I do not think you need to worry about how humans in general would do it.  Doing something in your manner and style would please him greatly, I think, as he seems to be pleased in general by you.”

***

Varric threw his head back, guffawing.  “We missed Curly’s birthday?  I can’t believe it!  Leliana really dropped the ball on that one.  So did you.  What kind of lover fails to pick up on that information?”

“Well, it’s not as if I’ve done this before,” said Namira, blushing furiously.  “He’s sort of, well, my firs—”

“Say no more,” said Varric, holding up a hand.  “No shame in that.  If you had to pick someone in the Inquisition, you definitely could have done worse for yourself.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“My suggestion would probably end up being a little too risque for his tastes, and yours too, if I read you right,” Varric said slyly.  “So go with your gut, Inquisitor.  Don’t worry about making it fit some kind of standard — just do something you know he’ll like.”

***

Dorian was barely able to stifle a giggle.  “You’re hunting for birthday ideas for our dear Commander?” he asked.

“I’m trying, but it’s a lot more difficult than I thought.  We Dalish don’t really do birthdays after childhood,” Namira said.  “It’s more of a general yearly celebration than it is singling out one person and celebrating them.”

“Ah, I see,” said Dorian, more seriously.  “Well.  He’s not a flashy man, by any means.  He won’t be impressed by razzle-dazzle.  Something heartfelt would bring him to his knees, I expect, and you’d come out the hero.  Think on it, and see if something doesn’t come to mind.”

***

Namira sat nervously on the edge of her bed, hoping she had done this correctly.  She had tried to figure out the best way to honor a human birthday.  She wondered if the reason the Dalish gave them such little notice was a callback to the elves of Arlathan, to whom birthdays mattered little in the face of immortality.  Whatever the reason, her attempts to research the custom had been only moderately successful.

A knock came at her door, and a smile flitted across her face.  He still felt the need to knock, despite the fact he had visited her quarters many times.  She sprang to her feet, hurrying to the door and letting him in.

“It was open, you know,” she said, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him.  His lips against hers were firm, his mouth slick and warm.  She broke away from him reluctantly.

“I, ah, didn’t want to intrude,” said Cullen.  “Even if I  _was_  invited.”

“That politeness will get you in trouble someday,” she teased.  She took him by the hand, leading him up the stairs.  “Come on.  I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been doing some reconnaissance,” said Namira, trying not to blush.  She led him over to her bed, sitting him down on the edge of it.  His expression was puzzled, his brows lifting up curiously.

“Reconnaissance, you say?”

“I may have overheard you in your office the other day,” she said, bending down and pulling out a chest from beneath her bed.  She tugged it out, hoisting it up and setting it on the bed beside him.  “About your birthday having passed.”  She settled herself down on his lap, slipping her arms around his shoulders.

He looked to her, then to the chest beside him, then back to her in disbelief.  He groaned.  “Don’t tell me you’ve done something for my birthday —”

“I had to!” Namira protested playfully, kissing him again.  She leaned her forehead against his, her lips curling softly into a smile.  “There’s a lot I still don’t know about human customs, but I’m trying to learn.  This… this seemed like one I could figure out,” she said almost shyly.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said in a low voice, wrapping his arms around her.  “You’ve been a gift greater than any I could ask for.”

She sighed, burying her face in his shoulder, his stubble scratching slightly against her cheek.  “But I wanted to, Cullen.  I wanted to show you that you’re special to me, and, well, this seemed like a good way to do it.”  

“Namira…”  He held her close, and she relaxed in his arms, just feeling him for a moment, enjoying the closeness.

“Now come on, then,” she said, pulling back.  “Open it up.  I tried to put a lot of thought into this, and I hope you like it.”

Cullen smiled at her — that shy smile again — and reached over to the chest, opening it up.  He reached in and pulled out the first object, a packet of new quills and ink.  She had found them in Val Royeaux ages ago.  “I noticed your quills were getting a little ratty,” she said hastily.  “It’s not a very exciting gift, but I thought you could use a new set.”

“I’m surprised you noticed,” he said, laughing.  “I’ve been thinking they were getting awfully scratchy lately with all those orders I’ve been signing.  Thank you.”

 _Score one Cassandra_ , she thought.  Small useful gifts were some of the most common ones Dalish gave to each other.

“There’s more in there,” she said.  She watched as he reached in again, taking out a sleek heavy pommel made of gleaming silverite.  “Your blade looks keen as ever, but I had the smithy take a look at your sword yesterday while you were sleeping.  He said the pommel could use an update and that this would be a good choice.”  She shrugged.  “I only ever bring a small dagger with me as a mage, but I trust his opinion.”

A smile tugged at Cullen’s mouth.  “I’d been meaning to get down to the smithy myself,” he said quietly.  He took it in his hand, testing the weight of it.  “Yes, I think this will work splendidly.”  

 _Thank you, Blackwall_ , she thought.  The gift could not have been any more practical.

He kissed her.  “Really, you shouldn’t have, though —”

“Hush, and open your last present,” Namira said, grinning at him.  

He set the pommel down and reached into the box, his face shifting into an expression of delight and disbelief at the last gift.  It was a gilded chessboard, its edges finely detailed, with a silk bag of pieces.  He opened the bag, pouring the pieces out onto the bed to examine them.  Bronze Mabari hounds tumbled out, followed by a silver King Calenhad.  

“The set we played with is Orlesian,” said Namira, “and I know Dorian is always borrowing it, so you often don’t get a chance to play.  I thought you might like to have a private set, a Ferelden one.  Maybe it could be — ours alone?”  She looked nervously into his face, waiting for his reaction.  

“Is this how humans do birthdays?  Is it all right?” she asked.   _Come on, Dorian and Varric!_   Did this count as heartfelt?  She thought it did.

Cullen looked at her, one of those hopelessly soft looks that made her stomach swoop and her heart beat more quickly.  “Thank you,” he breathed.  “It’s perfect.  You’re perfect.”   The kiss he gave her was fierce and wanting, and she leaned into it, feeling utterly pleased.  

Shemlen ways were odd, yes, she reflected as she unbuckled the straps of his armor and he went to work on her buttons, but there was no denying sometimes that they got results.  It was almost enough to make her wish that birthdays came more than once each year.

**Author's Note:**

> Total silliness what even is this


End file.
